


What is fate, if not unfair?

by NarcissisticAsshole



Series: There's no turning back from a path carved in stone [5]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, In which Wilbur blows up Manburg and has a mental breakdown right after, Mental Instability, Unreliable Narrator, What if Scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27508342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarcissisticAsshole/pseuds/NarcissisticAsshole
Summary: “He was a child.”“He got in my way-”“He was your brother!”Aka, in which Wilbur is faced by an angry Techno after triggering the explosives in Manburg.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: There's no turning back from a path carved in stone [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966168
Comments: 8
Kudos: 256





	What is fate, if not unfair?

**Author's Note:**

> Heyoo it's your friendly neighbourhood bastard here to deliver their daily dose of angst. Don't have much to say about this one besides that it was mostly dialogue practise, so go enjoy!

He opened his eyes to a blurry place.

He was lucky- so lucky he was somehow safe, even inside the bunker. He forcefully removed a piece of rubble from his leg, ignoring the deep ache and how it refused to cooperate. It was probably broken given the pain, the ridiculous pain he felt emanating from there. But he ignored it in favour of getting out of the remains of the bunker, limping as he did so.

Walking out of the place, he saw the remains of what had once been his great nation. A child’s play, really. A foolish, hopeless dream that ended in the mass destruction of his lands. He smiled- a wide grin, keeping up appearances despite the fact that there was nobody around to see him. There was nobody to fool into thinking it was funny, nobody despite himself. And wasn’t that more than enough?

He walked among destroyed pieces of stone and rubble, spotting what looked like a body every once in a while. It reminded him faintly of a time before the elections, back when he had outright refused to give up to the Dream SMP and let the man trigger the explosives, rendering L’manburg to a similar state than now.

Somehow it felt different, knowing it was him that had triggered the explosion.

Dream was nowhere to be seen, so he could only assume the man had taken his leave before Manburg was blown up as to not be caught in the crossfire. Thinking more about it, he didn’t have any reason to stay in the “Dream SMP” any longer, seeing as there was no one alive to witness his rulership. Manburg had been wiped, and the “Dream team” was in shambles. Sapnap would leave when Dream wasn’t able to grant him good pay, and George left a few months after Schlatt became president, realizing the man’s presidency wouldn’t end in a good way.

He should have done the same.

But now it didn’t matter anymore, did it? There was no one to tell that to- no Tommy to listen to his deranged words. He winced at the memory of the child, feeling slight anger begin to bubble up inside himself. The kid had been so stuck up in his own way of seeing things, refusing to even try and understand how the explosives would fix everything. Now there was no one- no one at all to tell him he was wrong, to tell him he had to be fixed and that this wasn’t the way.

Because he was the villain here, wasn’t he? No childish remarks about freedom and a stolen homeland would fix that. He had made an election, lost and decided to revolt against the president because of his personal wish to be back on top. He remembered the first days, seeking for something that told him he had been right all along, that told him they weren’t the antagonists in this story. That told him he was right. But all it took was one speech from the horned man- promises of a festival, of a celebration for democracy. That was all it took for him to break, to realize that he was wrong.

A role he now embraced freely.

“Are you proud of yourself?”

He flinched, glancing at his back and seeing the familiar figure of the pigman. His clothes were dirty and filled with ash, cape partly destroyed. His expression was unreadable due to his mask- the pig mask he carried everywhere like a token, refusing to take it off under any circumstances. What was readable of his face seemed like it was curled up in a grimace, expressing all the emotions he never got to say aloud with his monotone voice. He let out a breathless laugh, not bothering to look at the man again.

“Does it matter?”

There were a few moments of silence, in which they remained in their positions, neither daring to say anything else.

“He was a child.” His voice was different, a venom filled whisper in comparison to his usual monotone voice.

“He got in my way-”

“He was your brother!”

He quieted down upon hearing the Blade’s agitated scream. It was so out of character for him to act as... empathetic as he did. The man didn’t care, so why was he acting like he did? Why did he remind him of the child- the child who was gone? What was the point in feeling bad for something that was over?

“Well he’s gone, and there’s no point in feeling bad for him. I think it’s time to move on, into a new era of peace.” He spoke with a weird glint in his voice, an almost satisfied tone.

“Look at yourself Wilbur! You sound just like him.”

The madman turned around in a swing, knowing exactly who the Blade was referring to. He felt sick, sick that the man who was in his side would compare him to the horrible, sick bastard Schlatt had once been.

Keyword once.

(He’s dead.)

“Don’t you dare compare me to that man.”

“How are you any different to him!?”

His mind was reeling, fists clenching and eyebrows furrowing. Why was he suddenly questioning him? He hadn’t hesitated before- so why now? Was he a coward, regretting his actions after the deed was done? He wouldn’t have believed that possible, not from the Blade. Perhaps he really was as weak as he claimed to be.

He turned his back on the man, clutching at his head with his hands. The image of the horned man- Schlatt, too familiar in his mind. He could see him- everywhere he went, that drunk sick smile of his that infected everything it touched. Thinking about his smile and insane voice, perhaps they were more similar than he believed them to be. Perhaps he was no different to Schlatt- perhaps they were both the villains.

But then, who was the good guy?

No one.

No one.

No one.

(Tommy.)

(But Tommy’s gone.)

He choked on the air, collapsing on the destroyed rubble of the floor. It could hardly be called that anymore, deformed by tons of TNT and a single button. He closed his eyes, feeling something fall down his face- tears. Tears, salty tears. He shouldn’t be weeping, not at the empty feeling he had brought onto himself. He’d done this, so why did he feel so horribly empty…?

A hand on his shoulder, and a presence next to him. A reassuring presence, a man he both hated and appreciated. His brother, a title he’d neglected for so long and yet had always been correct. He leaned on him, hopeless sounds emerging from his lips. Techno stayed next to him, silent tears falling down his face too.

[-------]

Not too far away, two bodies were next to each other.

(Tommy had always been clingy with his best friend.)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the [LINK](https://discord.gg/ju4CnJaZzg) to a MCYT server where you can meet other artists and writers such as myself!


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